I'm puttin' by each
week, and the time ain't distant when I'll be settin' at the head of
my own boardin'-house table, an' it will be 'Miss Flathers,' if you
please! You, Bertie!" this to a frail-looking little boy in the back
yard. "You git up off the grass this minute! Fixin' to catch the croup
and have me up with you all night, like I was last week."
"Sure 'n I might find a worse place than Mrs. Ivy's," continued Norah.
"A bit of blarney, and frish flowers every day in front of her
photygraph, and things right for Mr. Gerald, is all she wants. The
last place I worked,--Mrs. Sequin's, bad luck to her!... It was a
party or a dinner between me and me rest ivery night of the week!
Sorra a bit did I care for the whole kit of 'em, barring Mr. Don
Morley, as fine a young gentleman as ever set foot in sole leather!"
"Him that shot Dick Sheeley and run away?"
"Him they laid it on," said Norah with indignant emphasis. "It was
that good-for-nothin' Mr. Lee Dillingham done it, and Mrs. Sequin a-
movin' heaven to marry Miss Margery off to him. I seen how they was
tryin' to keep Mr. Don from comin' home and hearin' the tales they was
tellin'.
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